But it wasn’t his problem. Baxter was his problem. The whole fucking world outside this ritzy institution was his problem right now.
He didn’t give one shit about her sister or cousin or whatever. He and Annette weren’t friends. They were enemies.
And he wasn’t backing off until he had her right where he wanted her—in an interview room spilling her guts.
Carson stopped himself. What the hell was happening to him? He was losing it completely. Since when did he blow off basic human compassion?
“Ma’am,” the nurse said, her hands wrung together in front of her, “when the episode began, Gage, one of the attendants, and I were the first to get to the room.”
“Go on,” Baxter urged.
“We managed to get Paula back into bed and restrained.” The nurse swallowed hard. “That’s when I saw them.”
“Saw who?” Baxter looked from the nurse to the doctor and back.
“Little white mice.” The nurse cleared her throat. “The kind you buy at the pet store.”
Stark confusion and something very much like fear claimed Baxter’s face. “There were mice in Paula’s room?”
The doctor looked mortified. “We don’t know how it happened. It’s simply unbelievable. This is one of the cleanest, most tightly run centers in the country. I simply have no explanation for how this happened.”
Baxter’s expression went from confused to resigned. “I’m sure you do all you can to prevent any sort of incident like this.”
The doctor tucked the file she held beneath her arm. “Considering this is the second incident in the past week involving your sister, I believe we can safely say there is a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” Baxter asked cautiously, uncertainty in her tone as well as her eyes.
The doctor sent the nurse back to her station and kept her voice discreetly low. “We operate a fine institution here. As you know, we pride ourselves on the safety and excellent care we can provide for our patients. But no one who isn’t authorized to be here gets in. And certainly no one but authorized personnel is allowed to view a patient’s file. That leaves me with only one plausible explanation. Someone on staff. I can assure you there will be an in-depth investigation.”
“In the meanwhile,” Baxter suggested as the uncertainty in her eyes solidified into determination, “I would appreciate it if you addeda round-the-clock security detail to her room. I’m extremely worried about her safety.”
“Of course.” The doctor gave a firm nod. “We’ve already discussed that step. Paula will be monitored twenty-four seven. At no additional expense to you, of course, until we’ve cleared up this ... situation.”
Baxter thanked the doctor, then led the way out of the building and back to where they had parked. It wasn’t until they were off the property and barreling down the road in her rented car that her ice bitch persona fell back into place. “Paula has had the occasional episode related to her autism. She would be uncooperative or mildly violent ... but this is different.” She shook her head. “There’s no question in my mind now.”
“What does that mean?” Carson prodded. He was completely lost here.
“It’s Wainwright,” she said. “I know it’s him.”
Although Carson was doubting his mentor for the first time, he couldn’t deny that, but this—he didn’t see how Wainwright could have anything to do with this. “We didn’t know you had any living relatives.”
She slammed on the brakes, sending the car skidding to a sidelong halt in the middle of the road. “I’m telling you,” she shouted, “he’s dirty. He’s behind this, Tanner. Accept it.”
Carson twisted to stare directly at her. Any softer emotions he’d stupidly felt vanished. “Why the hell would he or anyone else dothis?How is putting mice in some poor woman’s bed relevant to anything?”
Long pulse-pounding seconds of silence elapsed. Baxter moistened her lips, then met his gaze. “Because the last foster home we shared had rats. Hundreds. They’d come out at night after we went to bed. We woke up dozens of times with one or more crawling around in bed with us. They terrorized Paula. Somehow he found out.” She exhaled a weary breath. “All her worst fears are annotated in her file, along with any allergies and medications.” Her eyes searched Carson’s. “Don’t you see? All these years, there’s never been a staff member who wanted to hurt Paula. And now, suddenly, someone is out to get her. Think! Where’s the motive?”
Carson hardened his heart. Refused to feel that pang of sympathy stabbing at his gut. “Life sucks sometimes. Having to share a home with a few rats isn’t the worst that could have happened to either of you.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he wanted to take them back. He knew that wasn’t the worst ... what the hell was wrong with him?
Annette stared coldly at him. “You’re right. It wasn’t. The worst was the sexual abuse.” She let off the brake and maneuvered the car back into its proper lane.
“That’s”—he took a breath—“unfortunate.” No sympathy. No goddamned sympathy. This couldn’t be about how devastating her life had been. It had to be about the truth. They were wasting time.
“Like you said,” she snapped without taking her gaze off the road, “life sucks sometimes.”
It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to reach out to her on some level. No one deserved to be treated as she and Paula had been. Whatever Annette Baxter had done, she hadn’t deserved that. But he couldn’t let her see sympathy, not even for a second. If she suspected he was sympathetic, he would lose the upper hand. He had to be in charge here.
Stick with the facts.
